


Saying It

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Established poly, F/M, Feels, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9373175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo isn't sure he's allowed to admit he's in love.





	

He’s afraid. So very, very afraid. He’s never felt this terrified in his _life_ (and he once had to tell Leia Organa that he would never fly again after doing serious damage in a certain Corellian corvette). 

Kylo’s hands shake, and he sits on them. That way he doesn’t see the fine tremors from the adrenaline pumping into his blood-stream. His voice he _knows_ isn’t going to hold out, if he even says anything at all. Right now he’s not sure he’ll manage that, and he just wants to bolt out the door. 

He has his _mask_ on. That’s how pathetic he is. He has his mask on. Because he doesn’t want them to see his face, especially if they don’t… if… 

Neither of them has ever used any kind of term of endearment even to each other. Neither of them has expressed anything other than gratitude for sexual release, and neither of them has indicated they’ve even _thought_ about saying That Thing. 

He was invited in for ‘stress relief’, and mutual satisfaction. The second part, definitely. The first? 

Not knowing where he stands is killing him. He’s never so much as masturbated in front of someone before they dragged him into their (very large, very plush) bed. He doesn’t know how you do the Relationship Thing, or even if this _is_ one. He knows (from awkward, better forgotten) Talks he was subjected to that not everyone has sex exclusively with the same partner(s), and not everyone has sex and is in a relationship, and not everyone in a relationship _has_ sex, but that’s all sorts of variables that leave his mind - frankly - swimming. 

He’d been fine with the vast cornucopia of potential connections, or lack thereof. He’d been fine because he’d assumed he’d never have to deal with it, and that - if he did - he would _know_ what someone wanted from him. Because they’d have asked him.

Which. They have. They asked him for his body, not his heart, or his soul. They asked him for his hands, his lips, his dick, his hole. And he gave all of that.

He wasn’t - hadn’t ever - planned on _feeling things_ , but those emotions just snuck in overnight and left him reeling in bed one night, after Hux had pulled his head back by his hair, purring obscenities in his ear as he ploughed Kylo right into Phasma’s spread-wide legs. He’d felt pride in the way the Captain bit at his lips and told him how good he was. He’d felt happy to be called a slutty little whore, even though he was neither. He’d felt a terrible, prescient need to please them _both_ , and he’d realised - then - that he would.

He would please them. However they wanted to be pleased. He’d do anything in his power, even if it… wasn’t something he wanted. He’d do anything he could to make them smile, and he’d felt bigger than his body, spread-wide and hurtling through space. 

Later, he tried to blame the sensation on his impending climax, but it didn’t fade with sleep, and when he’d woken to see Hux watching them both, he’d shared a tiny smile with him. A secret, as their fingers stroked their sleeping woman, making her dreams softer, happier, but never daring to wake her.

_Do you love her?_ He’d wanted to ask. Wanted to know, because he wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was love, or just… compassion. Kylo had ‘loved’, but he’d never been _in_ love, and he’d seen the way Hux cared for Phasma, even when she wasn’t awake to know it.

And he’d been horrified, because he couldn’t know if Hux felt anything _like_ the same for him. Not without vastly invading his privacy, and wrecking his way through the man’s inner world. 

But the thought wouldn’t go. That weird, out-of-body stretchedness. That unreal sense of the boundaries smudging, or of birdsong in his ribcage. A skip to his heart whenever he saw them, or even heard their name. A longing to be close, whenever they were apart. A smile that mirrored theirs, the moment it arrived. He was happy when they were happy, and he thought if it wasn’t love, it was close enough.

_Don’t say anything_.

Just because he felt something, he didn’t need to ruin what they had, right? They could just continue. Kylo could pine away, and live relatively selflessly, basking in their company and touch. They didn’t need to know he’d made it all weird with feelings, did they? He could just… not. Say anything.

(Only he couldn’t.)

_Don’t say anything_.

He kept finding the words somewhere at the back of his mouth, crowding his tongue, screaming for release.

_Don’t do it_.

Turning his face into his shoulder, turning his back, pretending he needs a glass of water. Pretending anything until the fever-wave passed. 

_Don’t._

A mission nearly gone wrong, and a bedside vigil, his hand in Hux’s, watching their girl.

_Do it_.

He could lose either one of them, tomorrow. And this is _killing_ him. How could they die not knowing he would give them eternity? How could he let them think they were anything less than everything that ever existed?

_Do. It._

Sitting, mask on, ready to run out the door. His tears pool in the edges of his eyes, making a mad sprint down the side of his nose to puddle the inside of his helmet. His hands won’t stop shaking, even under his thighs.

**Do. It.**

They enter together, and Hux - surprisingly - is the first to work out something is wrong. He drops to a crouch, close by, and keeps his hands palm-up. 

“Kylo?”  


No. He can’t. They will reject him, and he’d rather just - go - than know for sure they don’t want what he does. He jumps to his feet, and two arms grab at him, holding him back.

“I– I c-can’t–”  


“What’s wrong?” Phasma asks, stepping in close, a hand on his lower back. Kindness, but… not… enough.  


If he wasn’t so selfish, it would be enough. He could just love them and not need it returned. He could adore them and be happy they–

“Kylo, please, tell us what’s happened,” Hux entreats him. “Did I do something wrong? Has something happened?”  


“ _Please_ ,” he begs, and yanks again. He nearly gets free, but then…  


Then he’s held from both sides. Suddenly crushed between two firm, unyielding bodies. He’s panicking like hell, and sobbing under his helmet, and he wishes he’d never felt a thing.

“I’m sorry,” he says, as he tries to blink his eyes clean. “I’m sorry. I tried. I tried…”  


A hand over the back of his neck, and he doesn’t even know whose it is. They cocoon him tight, stroking and easing and reassuring.

“I tried, I’m sorry, but… I… I…”   


He doesn’t say it out loud, but he slams the word into their minds, and prepares for them to let go. 

_I love you_. _Both of you_.

Instead of released, his lovers swap looks, and then there’s a bear-hug from behind, and another set of hands tug at his mask. It’s tossed onto the couch, and Hux is smiling at him in that way he smiled at Phasma, and _Maker_ but he needs it, he needs it so very, very badly.

“Y-you’re… nnnnnot mad?”  


“Why would we be?” Hux scolds, softly. Thumbs that slice away tears, and a mouth that can’t keep fixed over any one expression. “We wanted you to be ready. To be sure.”  


“You never… you never say–”  


“We didn’t want to pressure you,” Phasma says, and her nose runs over his neck. “We wanted you to… make up your own mind.”  


“You _assholes_ ,” he yelps, with no real anger. “You had me - you had me thinking you’d kick me out!”  


“…what?” Hux blinks. “Why?”  


“I thought if I told you I was in love with you that you’d throw me back to my room!”  


“…why would we throw you out?” Phasma asks, equal parts horrified and amused. “You silly boy.”  


“Well, maybe the part where you never even… wait. You _used_ to say it?”  


Hux nods. And Kylo… well. 

“…what if I… didn’t… ever?”  


“We were… okay with that,” Hux says, though his expression is drawn. “But we’d decided we loved you, whether you loved us back, or not.”  


Kylo punches his shoulder, and then sniffles. “Well. Fine. I do.”

“And so do we,” Phasma says, nuzzling under his hair. “So very, very much.”  



End file.
